


Threaded

by HearJessRoar



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HearJessRoar/pseuds/HearJessRoar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson's red string of fate leads into the upturned dirt of a fresh grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you think you've seen this fic before, it's because I'm working on moving my stuff to AO3 and ScarvesandCoffee from FFnet

Blaine Anderson’s red string of fate leads into the upturned dirt of a fresh grave. Below his feet rots the soulmate he never met properly. He sighs, fingers trailing over the shiny new headstone, tracing the name of the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen.

He’d been so excited, the day his string had tightened suddenly, jerking him several feet backward. He skipped school and hoped his soulmate wouldn’t mind him showing up in his Dalton uniform. The string twitched frantically as he drove, and he used it as a guide, instinctively knowing what jerk meant which direction. When the string burnt blazing hot around his wrist, he startled, pulling into a parking garage to rub at the seared flesh. That’s when he heard the whimpers, floating in through his open window.

Not twenty feet away lay the broken body of his soulmate.

The boy’s eyes were open, fingers flexing weakly, beseechingly, as Blaine knelt next to him. Blood soaked into his slacks as he laced his fingers gently with the outstretched hand, feeling shattered bones try to grip back as he fumbled for his phone.

A weak squeeze stopped him.

The boy shook his head almost imperceptibly. Blaine felt tears prick his eyes as the other boy tried to make his broken jaw cooperate. He managed to half-mouth, half-whisper “Name?”

“I’m Blaine,” it took all his willpower not to choke on his own title.

The other boy gave a small, pained smile. “Kurt.” He took a rattling breath. “I’m sorry, Blaine.”

And with that, the light in Kurt’s blue eyes dimmed, and Blaine’s soulmate died with their fingers intertwined.

Blaine’s brought back from his thoughts by a flashlight in the distance. The groundskeeper, a bent old man with a withered apple of a face, is coming towards him. He gives Blaine a sympathetic look as Blaine drags his himself away from the headstone, shoving both hands deeply into the pockets of his coat as he turns to leave.

He doesn’t see the old man tilt his head at his retreating back. Doesn’t see the twinkle in his eyes as he looks from Blaine to the grave. Doesn’t see him vanish.

Blaine kicks off his shoes and falls facefirst on to the sofa, digging his phone from his pocket. He hits ‘send’ twice, pulling his face from the cushions and rolling over as the other person answers.

“Hey, kiddo. How you doing?”

Blaine swallows, clutching a pillow to his chest. “I went and saw him today.”

Burt sighs. “I figured you would. How long did you stay this time?”

“…the groundsman kicked me out again.”

“Blaine, I know it hurts. Believe me, I do.” Blaine can practically see the older man rubbing at his wrist where the thread linked Burt to his own shattered past. “But you’re torturing yourself.”

Blaine is silent.

“He wouldn’t want you to do this, Blaine. You’ve put your life on hold for a year for him. Kurt would kick your ass, believe you me.”

Blaine licks his lips and still says nothing. Burt sighs again. “I ever tell you about the time he laid into this rat-faced guy at the shop for insulting his knowledge of cars?”

He replies in the negative and Burt launches into the story, trailing off occasionally in a way that makes Blaine aware of how badly Burt misses his son. When they say their goodbyes, Blaine lets the phone fall to the floor with a muffled thunk. He always felt a strange mixture of elation and bitterness after talking to Burt. On one hand, hearing stories about the amazing person Kurt had been filled him with contented warmth. On the other, the fact that he had not and would never be able to properly meet the truly fierce, fabulous force that was Kurt Hummel angered and saddened him. The contentedness must have been worth the pain, though, because he couldn’t bring himself to put a stop to their calls.

It helped Burt cope, he knew. Knowing that someone else out there loved his son just as much as he did and being able to talk about him helped stave off the ache of loneliness that came from losing his only child.

He’d never expected Kurt’s father to approach him at the funeral. But he had, scooping Blaine into a tight bear hug that had made him burst into fresh tears. He stood silently by Blaine’s side as the casket was lowered into the ground, Blaine’s eyes refilling as the red string linking him to Kurt finally protruded from a mound of earth. Burt knew what he was seeing, had told him later that his own red string lead to a grassy grave next to Kurt’s. Burt used his own burial plot for his son.

Blaine stretches, pushing himself to his feet and towards the kitchen to make something for dinner. His vision suddenly blurs and he grabs for the countertop, gasping at the nausea that’s overtaken him. His skin is all at once burning and frozen, and he slides to the floor in a heap.

He curls into himself as far as he can manage, his body shivering as the hot and cold sensations run through it. Blaine can feel cool sweat beading on his forehead, but can’t manage the will or strength to wipe it away. Black dances at the edges of his vision and seems to become more prominent with every blink.

_“You didn’t protect me,”_

_Blaine’s positive he’s passed out because he’s suddenly back in the parking garage of a year ago, frozen as faceless, burly men advance towards Kurt. But Kurt’s also beside him, blue eyes burning into his, furious._

_“I pulled on the string. But you didn’t save me.”_

_He’s beside Kurt’s broken body once more, cradling him to his chest, but Kurt’s shattered arms push him away._

_“You weren’t there...you weren’t there.” Kurt’s glaring at him through blackening eyes and Blaine doesn’t know how many more times his heart can shatter._

“Leave,”

_Blaine groans, his stomach roiling and his heart feeling torn to pieces._

“Seriously, you need to leave.”

Blaine slowly realizes that he’s no longer on his kitchen floor. There’s grass beneath him and warm sunshine on his cheek. The person above him continues talking, sounding irritated. “I realize you’re probably too hungover to care about whose lawn you’re puking on, but I will call the police and have you escorted off my property.”

Blaine opens his eyes, bright sunlight making him squint. The other boy slowly comes in to focus. Long, lean legs wrapped in tight skinny jeans. A blue peacoat threatened by wrinkles from the way the boy was crossing his arms. Pale face, brown hair swept up stylishly, burning blue eyes.

Kurt Hummel is staring at him.

Blaine can feel himself go pale. He manages a murmured “Kurt,” before his world is crushed black once more.


	2. Chapter 2

“I really hope you aren’t dead.”

When Blaine comes to once more, Kurt’s pale face is swimming above him, looking anxious.

“I can’t deal with a dead guy on my lawn right now; I’m already late for school and-hey, are you okay?”

Blaine’s breath is coming in short gasps, his body shaking as he hyperventilates. Kurt drops to the grass next to him, looking unsure of what to do for the strange boy that magically appeared in his yard. The grass is blurring together before his eyes and he has to blink rapidly to keep Kurt in focus.

“This. Isn’t…possible,” Blaine manages to huff out. “You’re. You’re Kurt.”

Kurt gives him an odd look as Blaine tries to calm himself. He seems to be holding himself back from touching Blaine, even to try to comfort him. Blaine recalls Burt telling him about Kurt complaining about idiots who thought they could ‘catch the gay’ and his heart gives a painful squeeze.

Blaine forces his breathing to steady, the world slowly clearing around him. He tells himself that panicking isn’t going to help this situation. It feels too real to be a fever dream, but the fact that his very much alive soulmate is kneeling next to him is hard to accept, to put it mildly.

“Do you need me to call someone for you?” Kurt asks, voice gentler than it had been when he thought Blaine was drunk.

Blaine shakes his head, unable to look him in the eye. He shivers, suddenly very aware that his coat is on the hook in his kitchen and the only thing covering his chest is a thin t-shirt in the brisk morning air.

Kurt bites his lip, seeming to mull something over as he gets to his feet. “Tell you what. You can come inside, use the phone, call whatever drug dealer or pimp you need to, no questions asked, and we part ways. Deal?” He holds out a hand to help Blaine stand, and Blaine reaches out to take it on instinct.

Their fingers meet and pass through each other.

They both gasp and Blaine pulls his hand back towards his chest, staring at his palm as though he’s been burned.

Kurt’s staring at Blaine again, his own hand cradled protectively against himself. “What-“

Blaine swallows, thinking hard and looking from his hand to Kurt’s eyes.

“I think we need to talk, Kurt.”

\--

They walk to the kitchen in awkward silence, Kurt’s schoolbag banging off his hip in a way that has Blaine mesmerized. Or it might be that he just really needs something else to focus on instead of the fact that Kurt is living and breathing in front of him.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Kurt’s ass is really, really nice.

Kurt props himself against the counter, watching as Blaine shuffles from foot to foot.

“You wanted to talk. So talk,” he says, crossing his arms defensively.

Blaine opens his mouth to reply, but a thundering on the stairs stops him and he turns around instinctively.

“Kurt? Shouldn’t you have left by now, buddy?”

Burt Hummel is staring straight through him.

For whatever reason, Blaine holds his breath, tries to will Burt into seeing him. It feels like there’s water swirling around in his brain as he vaguely hears Kurt make up a lie about over sleeping, sounding a little edgy. When Blaine faces him again, he notes that Kurt’s eyes are flicking from Blaine to Burt, looking confused.

If Burt notices his son acting strangely, he must chalk it up to him being overtired, because he simply walks further into the kitchen, walking through Blaine and not hearing Blaine’s gasp. He doesn’t see Kurt’s widened eyes as he shuffles through the refrigerator.

“Better get going, kiddo. You’ll be late.” Burt pats his son on the shoulder and is out the door, stepping again through Blaine. Blaine shudders at the feeling, meeting Kurt’s eyes when they hear a car pull out of the driveway.

“Kurt-“

“Stop.”

He does.

“I have no idea what is going on and I would really like some answers, but I don’t know if I can process why you’re apparently intangible, so can we start with your name?”

Kurt’s breathing hard by the end of his rambling question, looking terrified of Blaine. He presses hard to the kitchen counter, like he’s trying to put more distance between them. Blaine tries to mask the hurt.

“I’m Blaine,” he says instead. “And I’m your soulmate.”

The red string around his wrist jerks and burns suddenly, the length shortening rapidly and snapping tight to their eye level. Kurt gasps, grabs his wrist as he’s yanked forward a few feet.

Something isn’t right.

Instead of one string linking Kurt to Blaine, there’s a split. Another string, attached to the middle of theirs like it had been woven that way. If Blaine looks closely, he can tell that it leans more to him than to Kurt. He touches it lightly, feeling his own string quiver.

“Ah.”

“Ah? What do you mean, “Ah”? What the hell is going on?!” Kurt looks close to tears at this point, though Blaine guesses they’d be more angry tears than anything else.

He holds up his wrist, the strings moving with the motion and Kurt’s eyes following warily.

“This,” he says, pointing at the other string. “Leads to me. The other me.” He touches the place where the strings connect and all three give a shudder, loosening again.

Kurt’s phone chirps before he can say anything. He curses, bustling past Blaine as best he can without going entirely through him, and runs out the door. Blaine blinks, following him quickly.

Kurt seems to be fighting with his door handle, swearing at it when he can’t get it to yield. Blaine silently walks to the other side of the Navigator, opening the passenger door and climbing inside. He reaches across the console to pop the lock on Kurt’s door.

Kurt glares at him as he slams the door shut behind himself. Buckling quickly and throwing the car into gear, he backs out of the driveway before Blaine can sit down properly and latch his seatbelt. The jolt of motion throws him sideways into the dash.

“Sorry,” Kurt mutters, but he doesn’t really sound sorry at all.

Blaine huffs and flops into the seat, not bothering with the seatbelt. Kurt glares at him when they stop at an intersection.

“Put your seatbelt on. I don’t know if ghosts can die and I really don’t want to find out.”

Blaine rolls his eyes but buckles it anyway.

They spend the ride to Kurt’s school in a tense silence. Blaine notes the way that Kurt looks around anxiously, his eyes lingering on the dumpsters before he parks. He decides to ask about it later.

“At least I missed Karofsky and his gang of miscreants,” he mutters, shutting his door with unnecessary force.

“Who’s Karofsky?” Blaine asks, trotting up alongside him. Kurt groans.

“Why’re you following me?”

Blaine shrugs, giving him a charming grin. “What else am I going to do? It appears that no one but you can see me.”

Kurt snorts and walks faster. “You’re incredibly irritating, you know that?” he says, pushing the doors open. “First, you’re pretty much having a seizure on my lawn, then you’re a ghost, then you’re my soulmate, then you won’t leave me alone-“ he stops talking as he realizes that the hallway stragglers are staring at him. Blaine stifles a giggle as Kurt glares at them, sticking his nose in the air as he keeps striding towards his locker.

He pops open the small metal door and starts angrily shuffling his books. “We can’t talk in public,” he mutters lowly. “I don’t need them thinking I’m more of a freak than they already think I am.”

He bangs the locker shut and storms off quickly, leaving Blaine staring after him, open-mouthed. He doesn’t follow, the string around his wrist giving a sad twinge as he takes off in the other direction.

Blaine wanders for two bells, finding several interesting rooms but none that he wants to spend the school day confined to. Eventually he finds what looks like the choir room. He perches himself on the piano, looking around.

There seems to be a teacher’s office off to the side, and he decides to pick through it, see if he can find some information.

Aside from an outdated show choir handbook and an adorable picture of the glee club (Blaine can barely make out the lettering on the sign held by the wheelchair boy.) there isn’t much. A lamp, the picture, and an inspirational quote calendar make up the entire desktop and Blaine wonders if the teacher has another, more permanently used office.

He’s about to leave the tiny room and perhaps see how in-tune the piano is when the calendar catches his eye.

Underneath the usual feel-good quote reads the date.

November 5, 2010

Blaine swallows down the bile that has risen in his throat and grabs blindly for the rolling desk chair.

If this calendar is correct, then Kurt Hummel is going to die in four days.


	3. Chapter 3

                Blaine doesn’t know how long he stands there, gripping the chair with a white-knuckled fist. The calendar sits so innocently on the desk, stating so blatantly that his soulmate is going to die very soon.

                At some point, he drops into the chair, cradling his head in his hands as he wills himself not to hyperventilate. He needs to think this through. What does he know?

                One, Kurt Hummel is his soulmate. That is a fact and cannot be changed.

                Two, Kurt Hummel died November 9th, 2010. This is also fact.

Three, he has somehow gone back to November 5th 2010 and Kurt Hummel is still alive.

Four, no one but Kurt can see him, but even Kurt can’t touch him. Blaine is not about to open that big can of crazy right now, so he files it away for later pondering.

That is what he knows. It’s not incredibly useful, but it’s nice to have his knowledge organized and put into the open.

It doesn’t stop the pain in his heart when he realizes that Kurt doesn’t know he’s got four days of life to live.

He forgot one.

Five, he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to save Kurt or even tell him about it.

On one hand, Kurt being alive would be beyond fantastic. On the other, changing the events of history could seriously mess up the present, not to mention the space time continuum.

But Kurt would be alive…they could have a future together and get to know each other better and fall in love instead of having that option ripped away from them this time. Blaine would finally see the amazing person Burt had been telling him stories about for a year now. He could be with the man he’d been waiting for ever since he noticed his red string at the tender age of six.

There’s the scuffling of metal feet in the choir room, and Blaine looks up to see that there are teenagers taking seats on the risers. None of them notice him, even when he gets out of the chair and walks across the room, straight through their line of sight. Their chatter fills the air and Blaine sighs. He should probably leave if there was a class here right now. No need for any of them to be freaked out by an unexplainable moving chair.

He turns to leave when Kurt strides in, arm linked with a pretty Asian girl. Kurt’s eyes widen momentarily when he sees him, but continues his conversation with just a small pause. They break apart and Kurt heads for the back of the room, sitting near the corner. He gives a nearly imperceptible head tilt towards the empty chair next to him, and Blaine is quick to accept the invitation.

He doesn’t really pay attention to what’s happening in the club. Kurt ignores him for the most part, texting someone every so often and scoffing when the tiny brunette gets up enthusiastically. Blaine notices that his reaction seems to be the general consensus, especially if the look on the dark-haired cheerleader’s face is anything to go by. The tiny girl sings and while her voice is nice, Blaine’s too lost in his own head to really care at all as she gives an explanation of her song choice.

Would it be cruel to not tell Kurt that he was going to die? Would Kurt even want to know? And was Blaine supposed to stop it from happening, or had Fate just decided to be awful and make him watch his soulmate’s death a second time? This time without even the comfort of holding Kurt against him as he breathed his last?

There’s a hand waving in front of his face and Blaine blinks. Kurt’s looking at him with an unreadable expression and the room is empty now. He tries not to blush, awkwardly avoiding eye contact as he stands.

“Lost in thought, I guess,” he mutters, following Kurt out the door.

The car ride to Kurt’s house is a silent one, Blaine spending the entire trip staring out the window and Kurt casting him odd looks whenever he has the chance.

It’s only when Kurt dumps his bag on his bed that he speaks. “Please tell me what’s wrong, Blaine,” he says.

Blaine scuffs his toe into the carpet, looking everywhere but at Kurt. “I don’t know if I can,” he whispers, voice breaking on the last word.

He forces himself to meet Kurt’s eyes and is stunned to see him looking torn between wanting to comfort and wanting to yell. Kurt worries his lip with his teeth and Blaine drops his gaze to the carpet again.

“You’re hiding something. A really big something. You knew my name, you act like I’m this holy artifact you aren’t worthy to look at, no one can see or touch you, what the hell is going on, Blaine?” Kurt keeps his voice level, but Blaine can hear the fear behind his words.

Blaine feels the first tear slide down his cheek and drip off his nose onto the carpet.

“You died in my arms, Kurt.”

To his credit, Kurt doesn’t react beyond a sudden intake of breath and a widening of his eyes. Blaine wonders if he’s being strong for him, or if Kurt is really that stoic. Something tells him it’s the former.

“I…I don’t understand,”

Blaine takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

“On November 9th, 2010, you were beaten to death in a parking garage. I found you because the string started going haywire,” his breathing stutters for a moment. “I was too late.”

His knees feel weak, but the wall is too far away to support him. Kurt’s already sat down heavily on his bed, hand over his mouth as tears shine in his eyes.

“Who…?”

Blaine shakes his head, wrapping his arms around himself. “No one knows.” He looks up at the ceiling, as though trying to force the tears to remain in his eyes instead of falling down his face. “When I passed out yesterday, it was November 10th 2011. I had been at your grave all day. When I came home, I called Burt. He and I sort of put each other back together after your funeral,” he explains, studying the wallpaper and trying to ignore the way Kurt’s breathing hitches like he’s holding back full-fledged sobs.

“I’m not sure exactly what happened after that, but the next thing I know, my dead soulmate is telling me to get out of his yard and I’m sitting there having a panic attack.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “And then I figure out he’s going to die again in four days and I don’t know if I’m supposed to stop it from happening and he’s beautiful and fantastic and snarky and everything Burt said he was and more and I don’t think I can handle you being ripped out of my life again, Kurt.”

The dam has broken and Blaine chokes out a sob, stumbling backwards until his back meets the wall. He slides to the floor, burying his face in his knees as Kurt approaches slowly. He sits next to Blaine but doesn’t try to touch him. He seems to know it won’t do any good. What he does next, Blaine can’t figure out the thought process of, but he does it anyway.

Kurt starts to hum.

It starts out tuneless, but somehow turns into an actual song, and he hums it a few times through before deciding that outright singing might work better.

“ _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey,”_

Blaine doesn’t lift his face, but his shoulders stop jerking with the force of his sobs, and Kurt continues singing it until Blaine’s completely slumped against the wall. The several bouts of shock and freakouts have exhausted him and he really just wants to sleep.

 _“Please don’t take my sunshine away,”_ Blaine murmurs, his eyes sliding shut.

\--

_Everything hurts. He can’t really feel his wrist anymore; his body is just one throbbing pain that’s ripped through him every time his heart valiantly beats out another weak cycle of blood. He’s only aware of the twitching string by the sight of it next to him._

_He stares across the cold cement, his face becoming tacky with his own congealing blood. He’s going to die; he can feel it in his soul._

_He hears the car, hears his soulmate coming towards him._

_Blaine looks up into tear-filled blue eyes._

_“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, letting the blackness consume him._

“Blaine!”

He wakes with a startled gasp to find Kurt staring at him. It seems to be becoming a pattern, he thinks, his subconscious inappropriately humorous for someone soaked in tears. He notes that Kurt is shaking.

“I-I tried to wake you up, y-you were crying in your sleep, but I couldn’t t-touch you to shake you awake or any- anything.”

There’s more silence as they both attempt to collect themselves. Blaine notices the red bag dangling from his fingertips. He raises an eyebrow.

“Doritos?”

Kurt blushes. “Yeah…I don’t know if you can actually eat or anything, but I was in the kitchen and they kind of spoke to me,”

Blaine gives him a watery smile. “They’re my favorite.”

Kurt half-grins and sits down next to him, offering the open bag. Blaine’s pleasantly surprised when he’s able to take hold of a chip. He crunches it in half and Kurt gives him a fond, exasperated look as crumbs shower down his chin.

“Elegant,” he says, biting into his own chip and having the same thing happen to him. Blaine snorts. Kurt manages a haughty look, even with fake cheese powder gathered at the corner of his mouth.

Blaine wishes more than anything that he could kiss it away.

Even though that kiss would be Dorito flavored and probably kind of gross.


	4. Chapter 4

They finish off the Doritos in a silence broken only by the crackling of chips. When they’re gone, Kurt crumples up the bag, seeming to study Blaine carefully. Blaine fidgets under his gaze.

“Are you going to?”

“Am I going to what?”

“Save me.”

Blaine bites his lip, looking at the floor. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to,” he says, a little ashamedly. Kurt let his head thunk against the wall.

“But I want to,” he continues in a whisper, drawing his knees closer to himself. “I really, really want to.”

“Blaine, you can’t.”

Blaine snaps hi head up to look at Kurt incredulously, but Kurt has his head tipped back against the wall. Tears are streaming silently down his cheeks and off his chin.

“If Fate says I’m going to die, then I’m going to die.”

“What if Fate made a mistake?” Blaine is fighting down the urge to shout, his words choked and strained with the effort.

Kurt’s voice is quiet and too light in the heavy atmosphere that’s settled even denser between them. “Blaine…Fate doesn’t make mistakes.”

Blaine pushes himself off the floor, glaring down angrily at Kurt, who has closed his eyes to avoid Blaine’s gaze.

He stands there, minutes ticking by with only the hitching of Kurt’s breath to break the silence. When he opens his eyes to look at Blaine again, they are vividly blue against his reddened face. Blaine feels his anger melt into sorrow, into something deeper than rage.

He stares at Kurt, his heart breaking all over again. "You honestly want me to stand aside and watch you be ripped out of my life again when I have the ability to stop it from happening?!"

Kurt wraps his arms tighter around himself, tears starting to trickle down his cheeks once more. He turns away from Blaine and the string around their wrists seems to tighten, trying to draw them together. "Fate doesn't make mistakes, Blaine," he repeats in a broken whisper. "I have to die."

Blaine steps away from him, shaking his head. “No.”

“YOU CAN’T SCREW WITH FATE, BLAINE!”

Blaine jumps back and can tell that Kurt’s as shocked as he is, having jumped to his feet to bellow at Blaine. Kurt’s chest is heaving and his hair has fallen out of its hairspray and his face is red and hell if Blaine isn’t falling even farther right now because of it.

There’s thundering footsteps coming up the stairs and the door flings open, startling them both.

“What’s going on up here?!”

Blaine doesn’t stick around to see how Kurt lies his way out of this one to Burt. He steps through his soulmate’s father and stomps down the stairs. He flings open the door, picks a direction, and runs.

He’s got no idea where he’s going and the lights of houses blur past in yellows and blues from televisions. The chill bites at his ears and they begin to ache, but he doesn’t stop to rub at them. Blaine bolts through a late-night dog-walker and the girl doesn’t even blink. His eyes sting and his lungs burn and finally, Blaine drops to the ground, panting.

When he’s caught his breath enough to see where he is, the streetlamps reveal a swingset and jungle gym, shadowed eerily and probably a hot spot for local drug dealers. Blaine decides to risk it.

The swings are old and creak as he sits down, flakes of rust snowing down from the metal loops at the top. The stars are hidden behind a cover of patchy clouds and Blaine decides that it should rain, partly because it suits his mood, but mostly because he wants to know if he’d be able to feel it.

Picking up and touching objects is so strange. The chains in his hands feel dull, the sensation of touch numbed. He’s noticed that it’s more of an effort now to feel.

 Story of his life.

He knows he’s trying to distract himself. He’s never been a particularly good liar, and there’s a really irritating voice in the back of his head telling him that he ran away again. Ran away from Kurt, ran away from pain he couldn’t control. Blaine huffs a breath out through his nose and digs his heels into the dirt. He pushes back slowly, letting the chains and the rubber seat do the work.

When Kurt comes up behind him, Blaine is half asleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of the swing. He starts when Kurt drops into the swing next to him.

“I guess I can’t really stop you, can I?”

“Guess not.”

Kurt sighs, twisting the chains so he can look at Blaine fully. “If you rip a hole in the space-time continuum, I’ll never forgive you.”

It’s not terribly funny, but once Blaine starts laughing he can’t seem to stop. He slithers off the swing and onto the ground, lying back as his shoulders hitch with giggles. Kurt makes a face and says something about dirt and his clothes but lies down next to him, the swing seats playing pendulum above their heads.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Kurt mutters as Blaine’s laughter dies down.

“I know,” Blaine says, eyes following the back and forth motion of the swing above him. “But if you don’t laugh, you’re gonna cry, you know?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says. “I know that one pretty well.”

Blaine creeps his hand into the space between them and Kurt looks at him like he’s crazy. But then he shrugs, and inches his hand forward, hesitating as their fingers overlap, and finally rests his hand through Blaine’s.

“I really wish I could kiss you.” Kurt whispers, his head lolling to face his soulmate. Blaine gives a wry smile.

“I’d settle for brushing that dirt off your nose.”

Kurt squawks, sitting up abruptly and nearly smacking his forehead on the swing as he rubs his nose furiously.

Blaine laughs and pretends that things are normal, that he’s not intangible and invisible and a time traveler and that Kurt doesn’t have an expiration date. He pretends that this is a normal date, a real date, that the red string between them isn’t split and that the real-time him isn’t obliviously sitting in his room right now.

He pretends that the only reason he doesn’t lean over to kiss his soulmate is because he enjoys Kurt’s pout.


	5. Chapter 5

The walk back to Kurt’s house is mostly silent, but comfortably so. Their breath steams the cold night air, mingling together before disappearing. Blaine roars, pretending to be a dragon to make Kurt laugh.

Between them, their split red string twinges once in awhile, tugging them closer as they walk.

The door creaks when Kurt pulls it slowly open, and they both freeze, listening for Burt’s footsteps. When there’s nothing, Kurt heaves a relieved breath and gives Blaine a grin that makes his heart jump in his chest.

When Kurt’s bedroom door is safely shut behind them, Kurt asks, “I don’t really feel like going to sleep. Do you?”

“Not really, no.”

A slow smile spreads across Kurt’s face. “Then I think we should do some experimenting.”

When Blaine just blinks at him, Kurt hides his face in his hand, pink blush dusting across his cheeks and visible between his fingers. “Not what I meant. It’s just…” he falters, his eyes avoiding Blaine’s. “You can touch things, but not people. So what fits under ‘things’? There’s gotta be a limit.”

Blaine drops himself onto Kurt’s bed, pulling his legs up to sit crisscrossed. “So where do you suggest we start?”

Kurt bites his lip. “Well, clothing doesn’t seem to stop you from going through people, so maybe if it’s not being worn?” He gets up, fumbling around in his closet for a moment before returning with a soft-looking green sweater. He offers it to Blaine.

Blaine’s tentative hand goes straight through it and he pulls back, slightly disappointed. Kurt sighs. “Clothes are a no-go at all then. Hmm…” his eyes fall to the comforter that Blaine is sitting on.  He tugs it out from under Blaine, his soulmate falling backwards with a startled noise. “Sorry. Bedding? I mean, if someone else is holding it, that is?”

Blaine reaches out and grasps a corner of the comforter, tugging it from Kurt’s hands. They share a smile as Blaine bunches the blanket in his hands absently. Pulling at the fabric, Blaine gets an idea. He stands, ignoring Kurt’s confused look at his sudden enthusiasm, and pulls the blanket completely over himself, one corner covering his head like a hood.

“Blaine, what-“

“Hug me.” He says, cutting Kurt off. Blaine can’t bother fighting off his excited grin. Kurt gives him a look that very plainly states how loony he thinks Blaine is, but he opens his arms and steps forward anyway, letting Blaine shuffle closer.

As Kurt’s arms hesitantly wrap around his comforter-covered back, Blaine holds his breath and hopes.

They don’t pass through him.

Kurt lets out a small squeak and pulls him closer, making Blaine trip over the blanket edge. He lands against Kurt’s chest, his head resting against Kurt’s shoulder. Blaine can feel Kurt’s laughter before he presses his lips to Blaine’s crown through the blanket.

“You’re a genius. A complete genius.”

“And to think that this morning you thought I was an idiotic drunkard.”

Kurt snorts. “Can you blame me?” He drags his hand down Blaine’s back, fingers marking off where the knobs of Blaine’s spine protrude as he presses the blanket against them. “I shouldn’t care about you this much,” Kurt murmurs, holding him impossibly tighter and swaying just a bit. “You turned up randomly in my yard, claimed to be my soulmate-“

 “Which is extremely true, thank you,”

 “-claimed to be my soulmate, told me that I’m going to d-die,” Kurt stumbles over the word and Blaine tries to press himself even closer into his shoulder. “I don’t even really know you.”

“Please don’t let go of me because you’ve had a sudden realization that I’m kind of a stranger. I might cry.”

Kurt laughs, a choked little sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “It’s really late. I should go to bed.” Blaine sighs and reluctantly breaks free of Kurt’s arms, backing away carefully do he doesn’t trip again. Kurt disappears into his bathroom and Blaine fixes the comforter, tucking it back onto the bed.

He doesn’t mean to be presumptuous, but the pillow and soft blanket look incredibly inviting. Blaine can’t stop himself from curling up and dozing off.

It feels like mere seconds later when Kurt shakes him awake. The lights are off and it takes Blaine a moment to realize that Kurt managed to touch him. He squints into the darkness, making out the silhouette of Kurt’s face and figure. “How-?”

“I had an idea. Promise you won’t laugh?” Blaine nods, rubbing at his eyes as Kurt crawls into bed beside him. “Snuggie.”

“…Snuggie?”

“Snuggie,” Kurt confirms, holding his arms open in invitation. Blaine scoots into them, pressing his face into his soulmate’s cloth-covered collarbone. “Tina got it for me as a joke. Glad it has some purpose.” He reaches down to tug the comforter over Blaine and himself, covering his hands with the sleeves of the blanket once more. “I’ll probably overheat, but I really don’t care.”

Blaine snuffles against his chest. “Love you,” he mutters. Kurt freezes, but Blaine’s too tired to think about it right now.

But as he drifts into unconsciousness, Blaine swears he hears Kurt answer with his own “Love you, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

Blaine wakes to Kurt whispering his name frantically, pushing at his shoulder through the snuggie.

“Forgive me,” Kurt says, struggling out of the sleeves. Blaine only has time to blink sleepily at him before Kurt rolls over.

Rolls over and _into_ him.

Quite literally.

Blaine lets out a startled squeak, jumping as the door opens.

“Hey, bud. Better get up if you’re still going shopping with Mercedes.”

Blaine hears Kurt thank Burt, but the fact that Kurt’s hand is where his hand is and they are actually sharing the same space simultaneously has him a little stunned and unable to notice if they say anything else.

When Kurt rolls away again, Blaine gapes at him.

“How was I going to explain the person-shaped lump under the blankets next to me?” Kurt says, a little defensive as a blush rises to his cheeks. “’Oh, don’t worry dad, that’s just my new pillow. They make them for the desperately lonely to have something man-shaped to cuddle at night.’ Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“I cannot even begin to put into words how weird that was.”

“The man-shaped pillow or occupying the same atomic space?”

“Yes.”

Kurt sits up, stretching. Blaine is torn between averting his eyes and drinking up the sight of Kurt’s back shifting under his sleep shirt, the knobs of his spine barely noticeable through the cloth.

Kurt shuffles around awkwardly, grabbing clothes from his dresser and closet. “I’m just gonna…shower…” he points with his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards a door. “Um…make yourself at home? I guess…”

Blaine picks at a loose thread of the comforter, watching the string around his wrist jerk gently as Kurt leaves, the bathroom door shutting quietly behind him.

The muffled sounds of the shower lull him back into a sleepy daze, and Blaine barely notes slumping back down into Kurt’s pillow until there’s a knock at the door.

He blinks, sitting up. There’s an absence of running water and the bathroom door is ajar. Wispy tendrils of steam still float in the air, dissipating as they near the ceiling. Kurt’s voice rings out, telling Mercedes that she can come in, he’ll be ready in a few minutes.

The door swings open and Blaine feels himself tense involuntarily, his mind slamming him into the past without his consent.

_Blaine barely registers the sound of footsteps racing toward the parking garage, the sound echoing as the person enters. His tears fall thickly as he continues to cradle Kurt’s head, the blood caked on his hands becoming tacky as it dries._

_“Kurt? Baby, are you okay? I know Puck pissed you off, but- Oh my god!”_

_There’s suddenly another presence at his side. Blaine flinches away, pulling Kurt closer to him protectively. The girl ignores him, one hand fumbling out her phone –and god, Blaine doesn’t even know her but he could kiss her for thinking when he obviously can’t- while the other presses against Kurt’s neck._

_When she feels no beat, the girl gasps sharply, like she’s been suckerpunched. She sniffles, tears spilling over as the call goes through. “Oh, baby boy…” she whispers brokenly, stroking Kurt’s too-pale face with the backs of her fingers. She clears her throat, but there’s still a wavering break in her voice as she tells the phone, “I need to report an attack…”_

_He tunes her out, focusing on the string around his wrist. It drags trough the puddle of congealing blood, unsullied. He’s never hated it until now._

_“Who the hell are you?” Despite the curse, her voice is soft. Her nose is running when he looks at her._

_“I’m his soulmate,” he murmurs, a fresh wave of tears building in his eyes. Her gaze softens even more behind her own tears and she lays a hand gently on his shoulder._

_They sit in silence as the sirens approach, Blaine cradling Kurt toward himself and the girl rubbing circles into Blaine’s shoulder, her other hand gripping Kurt’s lifeless fingers._

_When the paramedics try to pull him away to put Kurt on the stretcher, something in Blaine snaps._

_He cries and yells, howls of feral pain ripping from his throat as they try to pull him away from the body._

_“He’s my soulmate! HE’S MY SOULMATE!” He shouts, over and over as he struggles against the paramedic. They manage to force him away, his voice growing hoarse with his outbursts and tears._

_Warm arms wrap around his waist, restraining but comforting. Blaine clings to the girl, burying his face into her shoulder as they zip Kurt into a body bag with finality._

_“He’s my soulmate,” he says again. The girl rubs his back, and because she’s shorter than him, he can feel her tears soaking through his blazer._

_“I know, honey.”_

Blaine hasn’t seen the girl since Kurt’s funeral, when she stood with her friends and took the lead on a heartbreaking rendition of “Somewhere Out There.”

Now here she stands in the doorway of Kurt’s room, no teartracks, no bags under her eyes, and her smile carefree.

“Hey, space cadet, you in there?”

Blaine notices that Kurt has emerged from the bathroom and is eyeing him questioningly in the mirror, using the pretense of fixing his hair to do so. Kurt breaks eye contact, turning to his friend. “Sorry, ‘Cedes. I don’t think I got much sleep last night.”

Mercedes clicks her tongue disapprovingly and gives him a sympathetic look. “Nightmares?”

Kurt shrugs, giving his hair a final tweak. “Something like that.” He slings his coat over his arms and turns off his bedroom light. Mercedes grabs his hand.

“Hey. Look at me a minute,” she says as Blaine slips out behind them. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting…funny.”

Blaine can almost see Kurt’s hackles rise. “I’m fine, Mercedes.” He says, his tone a tad waspish as he pushes past her and down the stairs. Mercedes trails after him, looking both hurt and determined.

“Fine, fine, all you ever say is that you’re fine,” she mutters, oblivious to Blaine slipping through her as he catches up with Kurt.

He’s already by the car, still looking peeved, though he opens the door for Blaine, acting like he’s looking for something in the backseat as Blaine climbs into the vehicle. Kurt slams the door, yanking open the driver’s side and flinging himself into the seat.

Blaine catches his eye in the rearview mirror. Kurt huffs. “What?” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Blaine shrugs.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you guys’ friendship right now,” he begins, ignoring Kurt’s snort. “And it’s obviously some kind of fresh wound, so I’m not gonna prod, but you might want to know that she’s the one who came after you that day.”

Kurt freezes. “’Cedes saw…?”

“Yeah.”

“…shit.” Kurt watches his friend, saying goodbye to his father on the porch before she makes her way to the car.

“Sorry, I ran into your daddy on the way out. I’m glad he’s doing better.”

Kurt shifts the car into reverse and backs out of the driveway. “Yeah, me too.”

Mercedes shifts awkwardly in her seat. “So…Columbus? I got Christmas shopping to do.”

Kurt nods, catching Blaine’s eye in the mirror. He grins a little, apparently unable to stop himself.

“This is will be a decision I regret, won’t it?” Blaine asks, knowing that Mercedes can’t hear him.

He’s pretty sure that the only reason Kurt doesn’t stick out his tongue at him is because Mercedes is already looking at him strangely.


End file.
